


you look like a mess but I love you so much

by ShahHira



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Characters, Asexual Relationship, Autistic Hanzo Shimada, Avatar: The Last Airbender References, Comfort, FWP, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Modern AU, Pining Jesse McCree, also some cats, autistic Hanzo, because I hardly see him insecure, discussion of sexualities, insecure mccree, the interpretation is up there, there's not too much plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahHira/pseuds/ShahHira
Summary: Jesse visits his friend during finals. Hanzo is not chill at all.





	1. Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my dumb college au and I wrote this because I was suffering during my finals and I wanted Hanzo to suffer as well :) Really wanted to capture that absolutely hopeless feeling ya know :P But you know me, this is total fluff don't let anything else fool you. Also I'm not a smut writer at all, but if I WERE to write smut I think this is how I would write it 0_0
> 
> Also as for the autistic characterization, these are most of my experiences with autism because my therapist and I agree that, even though I'm an adult (technically lol), I've been showing signs. So I'm getting that checked out soon, so dw this isn't totally off the mark (I hope). But lemme know how I did!
> 
> There is going to be a little short follow-up whenever I get to writing it, just as a wrap-up :O

Jesse rang the doorbell.

He waited for a reasonable amount of time before pulling a face ten seconds in and moved to fish his phone out of his back pocket, shifting his weight and almost losing his balance, feeling every bit like the flailing idiot he could imagine he was in the hallway. At this time of night, though, there was no one to see him.

Nudging his slipping backpack back onto his shoulder in a motion borne of the veteran college student that he had finally become, Jesse juggled the rest of his items with relative ease: bag of quasi-Mexican takeout, basket of overflowing fries that just wouldn’t run out no matter how many he would eat (of which he was still eating out of), and the phone currently in his hand.

He knocked on the door loudly, just for good measure. Waited another ten seconds, then yelled, “Hanzo, I got food! Open up–”

The door swung open smoothly, revealing Hanzo at its entrance. Jesse recognized his practiced glare being trained at the newcomer – before realizing it was just Jesse.

“Hoo-wee.” Jesse whistled. “That got your feet movin’.”

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked, confused. “What are you doing on this side of campus? It’s late…”

Jesse simply stepped in, holding up his quarry. He smiled enticingly, “Was worried you dropped off the face of the earth so I decided to swing on by and see for myself how you’re doin’. Plus I got some food to share.”

Hanzo closed the door behind him, careful and measured as he usually was in his movements, but there was a tiredness in him that spoke of deep exhaustion. In the light of Hanzo’s apartment, Jesse could see the extent of how drained his friend looked: slumped shoulders, messy ponytail, eyelids hardly staying open.

“Man,” Jesse went for a sympathetic tone. “Finals?”

He knew all too well what was plaguing his friend. Hanzo merely grunted, turning back around to his living room. Jesse followed him in, dropping his backpack at his usual spot at the foot of the coffee table, which was littered with sheets of notes and academic papers.

He heard a bodily thump, and saw Hanzo practically melting into the mattress: one of the few furnishings that decorated his living room. Pushed up against the wall, it had managed to tastefully turn the living area into one big comfortable study room. Aside from bringing that “broke-college-student-anything-goes” feel it was an odd design choice, but Jesse had nonetheless been grateful for this on more than one occasion when their study sessions grew too late for Jesse to make the long journey across campus back to his own place. That was also the way he’d indirectly made his acquaintance with his brother Genji whenever he would drop by unannounced from his job in the larger city next over, though more often than not he would be snoozing the day away.

“Why can’t this paper finish itself,” Hanzo actually whined, drawing out the last word and burying his head into the multitude of cushions and blankets that adorned the mattress.

It was the closest thing to Hanzo throwing a fit. Jesse should not have found it so endearing, but here he was, shoving down the all-too familiar rise of affection climbing up his chest and stilling his breath in the infatuation that had seized him as of late. He was lucky Hanzo couldn’t see his face, otherwise he’d be asking why he was smiling like a loon.

Reluctantly he shook the feeling out, taking his own seat in a much less dramatic action and unpacked the food onto the table. “Did you have dinner yet?”

Hanzo deadpanned, “Jesse, that is too difficult a question to answer,” but it came out more “dead” than anything.

“Okay, now I have to ask,” Jesse crossed his arms. “How long have you been working on your English paper?”

Hanzo simply shrugged. That told him all he needed to know. In one satisfying motion Jesse slapped the back of Hanzo’s laptop closed, trying very hard to keep up a serious front in the face of the startled squeak coming from his right.

“Eat,” he commanded, tone brooking no argument.

Hanzo looked down at the proffered food in mild disgust. “This is Chipotle.”

“Yeah, and it’s got lettuce an’ stuff so it’s good for you. Eat up.” Jesse dug into his rice bowl, feeling immensely pleased with himself. Soon enough Hanzo gave up and followed suit.

Jesse took this chance to observe his friend, who was staring off into the distance as he automatically chewed every bite: long hair unwashed, casual clothes rumpled, muscles limp and loose yet far from relaxed. He had never seen his friend this drained of energy before.

The thought pulled at his heartstrings even more, and he wondered whether it really had been a good idea to come over and study with Hanzo, one of the few friends he had made ever since he built up the courage to take another stab at college. He was so lucky to find a friend in Hanzo, who was in the same boat as he was, looking just as lost on their orientation day. Together they’ve lived through the college experience, deemed it overrated, and had their fun as much as two thirty-some-odd year old men could amongst hormone-crazed, almost-adult teenagers. They were best friends now, sure, but he wished…

Jesse grunted around a mouthful of food, refusing to go down that reoccurring miserable train of thought and instead opened up his textbook to a bookmarked page: he had left off on journalism and biases of the media and it’d take at least an hour to get through the whole chapter. Best not to let his mind wander.

Yet he was not even ten minutes in before he found his mind constantly straying back to Hanzo: not quite so concerned at the lack of noise, but rather with how still the air had gone around his companion. Sure enough he had hardly moved an inch and somehow sunken deeper into the cushions, scrolling through his phone.

Jesse snatched the phone from Hanzo’s hand with lightening reflexes even _he_ couldn’t comprehend, a displeased frown on his face. “Hey now, dinner’s on me, partner!” He had caught the telltale logo of a certain online bank transfer service, closing the app just in time right before Hanzo could send the money to him with an unnecessarily hard press of his finger. “Don’t worry about it.”

Those were definitely the wrong words to say because Hanzo crossed his arms in a huff, eager to fight back. “You keep doing this! Didn’t you pay for us last time as well?” he argued.

“Fer what?” Jesse pretended to forget.

“For bubble tea and ice cream last week.” Shit, he thought he’d forgotten about that. “Which, thank you for reminding me, I will be adding that right now.” SHIT.

Using his very slight height advantage, Jesse leaned as far back as he could on the other side of the mattress, unable to hold in a burst of snickers at Hanzo’s feeble attempt at swiping his phone back. The extreme glower he was melting into Jesse only made him look even more like a pissed off cat, sending Jesse into a vicious cycle of giggles despite the daggers glared his way – all of which abruptly stopped when Hanzo pressed his full palm into Jesse’s chest, stretching up into his personal space in order to leverage maximum reach.

Jesse hoped he hadn’t noticed the little gasp at his touch, or his reaction – but soon Hanzo sat back in defeat, unable to deal with his shenanigans. If the loud, melodramatic groan was anything to go by.

The giggles came back for just a moment at that. Not that he didn’t appreciate Hanzo’s normal quick wit and dry sarcastic humor but Jesse kinda liked this unrestrained, cut-loose version of Hanzo – so long as the cause wasn’t through academic suffering, of course. “It’s a win-win situation, bud.” With a triumphant smirk, Jesse turned to tuck the phone in the crack between the wall and the mattress. “Least you won’t be distracted by your phone anymore.”

Jesse knew that wasn’t true, especially knowing how meticulous and focused Hanzo could be if he so wished, but it was the thought that counted. Unfortunately for him, this was a fatal error on his part.

Too fast for him to react properly, a few fingers managed to stuff their way past Jesse’s belt, securely hooked and roughly pulling him in Hanzo’s direction.

Who, by the way, was looking very irate as he held a bunch of dollar bills in his other hand: “Go fuck yourself, McCree,” and then Jesse could not stop laughing when he realized Hanzo was stuffing those same dollar bills into his pockets and waist. “Take my money!”

“What, _fuck_ – shit!” Jesse tried pushing him away, but he was doubled over in laughter to do much of anything. “Stooo-ooop!”

“Take my damn money that I owe you or you’ll take it like the stripper you’ve always wanted to be!”

“Oh, for the love of– I was _drunk_!” Jesse said in between gasping laughs. “I said that! Once!”

It felt beyond amazing to be the reason for Hanzo’s happiness; to lift his mood for even just a short while was worth going through all the trouble tonight. He loved that he was privy to Hanzo’s silliness, that he shared a side of him no one else had ever seen, that he felt safe with Jesse. He loved the way Hanzo clung to him to keep from keeling over in delight, savoring the warm, strong hands gripping his shoulders, however odd the angle was.

The forehead pressed into his arm seared wonderfully hot. If he didn’t pull away now…

Jesse took a steadying breath, straightening his posture. “Damn, just six dollars? I gotta step up my stripper game,” he muttered under his breath as he counted off the dollars stuck in his waist, pocketing them in begrudging defeat. He subtly pulled away from Hanzo, shuffling up to the coffee table under the guise of getting some work done instead of doing something he’d regret. “Alright, let’s get back to work, partner.”

Shaking his head at their antics, Hanzo turned back to his essay in the ensuing silence. In the span of a productive hour, Jesse managed to finish that difficult chapter, as well as review a few previous chapters for an upcoming exam. One look at Hanzo, however, told him that he was not having so much luck.

Hanzo had pulled one of the many blankets spread across the mattress around his shoulders – it was his usual blue blanket, Jesse noted, slim fingers stroking against the plush fur in a practiced gesture that he recognized as being a soothing habit whenever he was stressed or preoccupied. Being conscious of his outward tells was vital to understanding Hanzo and his inner moods, and Jesse had learned to read them like a second language. Based on the shredded state of his fingertips, though, he wasn’t faring too well.

Morbidly curious, Jesse took a peek at Hanzo’s laptop screen. “How many pages you have left?”

“Eight.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Eight?”

“Eight,” he repeated.

The implications hit Jesse like a truck. “And this is due…?”

Hanzo looked like he was going to throw up. “Noon of next morning.”

Jesse’s other eyebrow joined the first. “Why the hell did you leave to do eight pages less than _twenty_ _four hours_ before the deadline?” Jesse asked, incredulous on his behalf. Neither of them were standard college students, but Hanzo even more so; he couldn’t write eight pages of literary bullshit in one night with a clear conscious. It was impossible for him to leave an assignment without giving it his all.

“It… slipped my mind, as of late,” he murmured, clearly not wanting a reminder of his blunder. “I have been distracted by other matters.”

This night was going to be torturous for him. No wonder he looked so downtrodden. “I have an outline all written down, but I just can’t get the right words onto paper.”

At that, Jesse got an idea. Taking out his phone, he opened a recording app and set it on the table. “Try talkin’ to me.”

At Hanzo’s confused look he quickly amended, “Uh, I mean, use me to bounce your ideas around, you know? Gets your thought process runnin’ a little smoother when you use your mouth once in a while. And then I’ll send you the recording when you’re done so all you have to do is make the words sound pretty on paper.”

He put on his most reassuring smile. It was a long shot, Jesse knew – Hanzo usually wasn’t too keen on verbalizing his thoughts any more than necessary. But hearing him speak was truly a treasure to behold, his eloquence making Jesse hang onto every carefully thought-out word.

His suggestion, however, was approved – out of desperation or something else, Hanzo soon began to talk, albeit haltingly and with many pauses. With encouragement from Jesse he soon built up his momentum, voice smoothing out once he became absorbed in his area of expertise; twentieth century comparative literature would never be Jesse’s thing but he could listen to Hanzo rant on any subject and never get sick of his deep, rich voice, unable to rip his eyes from the passionate light dancing in his own. Although, right now it was hard to take him seriously, wrapped up as he was like an adorable blue burrito.

Still the recitation seemed to help: after downloading the recording he put his earbuds in place, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed energy and focus. Jesse heaved a sigh heavy with worry, antsy; it was only ten PM. They were definitely in for a long night.

Before his wallet could even get a chance to protest, Jesse placed an order for delivery from the local cookie specialty shop on the outskirts of their college town. Despite the fact that it was a niche dessert store and was admittedly a little too pricey, the quality of its cookies was unmatched by anything the two had ever eaten, and as such they frequented it to celebrate getting through another round of finals or midterms or sometimes just general life bullshit.

Jesse glanced over his shoulder to make sure Hanzo wasn’t peeking at his screen. There was no need to worry about that happening though because he was once again staring forlornly at his screen, expression hopelessly lost.

“Ran outta juice?” Jesse asked as he finalized the order without a second look. Yeah, life was being a bitch for Hanzo.

When no response came forth, Jesse glanced again. Actually, it wasn’t that he just looked lost; Hanzo’s face was pinched in poorly-concealed pain, his arms curled around his torso in an attempt to huddle into himself as though he were cold. His back was hunched to a dangerous angle and he was beginning to rock back and forth. Yet his eyes were radiating a single-minded intensity at the cursor blinking before him as if he was willing himself to write by virtue of sheer willpower alone. The only movement came from his hand rubbing at the junction of his shoulder and neck.

“You okay there, bud?” Jesse asked, hesitant.

“I can’t fucking concentrate on my fucking essay because of this stupid _fucking_ cramp in my shoulder.”

The answer came with surprising vehemence – Hanzo could be creative with his vulgarity when he wanted to, but this was just amateur. Still, Jesse wisely concluded now was not the time to poke fun at his misery…

“I wouldn’t mind helping with that.”

So instead he voiced the dumbest thing he could say in existence.

Jesse froze, immediately berating himself for letting his mouth run faster than his inhibitions and waited for Hanzo to pummel some sense into him in more ways than one. What really surprised him, though, was that Hanzo didn’t even unleash his patented murderous glare – in fact, the only indication that he heard Jesse was a carefully neutral glance cast his way.

Jesse placed a light hand on his shoulder, suddenly brave. “You are tense as a mother _fucker_ ,” he kept his voice pitched low, acutely mindful of the sudden fragile stillness that had surrounded them where they sat. Shuffling closer, Jesse’s fingers and palm tested the waters, gliding across the width of broad shoulders: his muscles were stiff, alarmingly so, evident even from underneath the many layers he was bundled up in.

As soon as Jesse closed the distance Hanzo pushed back against his hand, letting out a pained hiss. He shivered once, then squeezed his eyes shut against the glare of the laptop screen.

There was no two ways about it – Jesse had to do _something_.

Jesse began by keeping his touch casual, unobtrusive, hand brushing across the surface of the blanket loosely wrapped around Hanzo. Bit by bit he slipped it off, pulling it off his shoulders and around his torso, compromising as little warmth as possible while still letting his fingers dig in to the aching muscle. His thumbs did most of the work, rubbing circles into yielding skin, sliding up and down the nape of a solid neck.

His massaging skills were subpar at best, but Jesse could clearly see his efforts being rewarded. A sharp exhale accompanied each slow push of his palm, head bobbing deeper and deeper as his posture sagged backwards into his grip. The warmth was intoxicating to behold.

Jesse wasn’t aware of Hanzo relaxing into his lap until the warm feeling spread down the length of his front, sending a jolt of realization through his limbs. He didn’t dare move, unwilling to disturb the slumbering figure lying in his arms: solid, peaceful, breath evening out. His head slumped down onto Jesse’s arm.

Jesse gulped, taking a deep breath to calm himself only to inhale Hanzo’s scent: a heady mixture of something light and crisp – but also intoxicating, powerful, and something so inherently _Hanzo_. His head spun maddeningly but he resisted, biting down hard on his lip and throwing his head to the ceiling in supplication. There was only so much he could do when his arms were wrapped securely around him, one trapped and the other resting upon a wonderfully toned stomach, chin perched atop his raven hair. So close to him, so close to…

God, no. He couldn’t. How could he even think this way about his friend? A friend who trusted him, who placed his trust _in_ him: he would never forgive himself if he overstepped any boundaries, if he saw the fire in Hanzo’s eyes directed at _him,_ because of something _he_ had done. It would be despicable. It would be devastating. It would be…

A cold nose grazed his skin, nuzzling into his inner arm. Something dry, distinct in its shape, brushed feather-light across the surface.

Was… Was Hanzo…

There. It happened again; an inaudible sigh, a slow, languid huff of air puffing into goose-bumped flesh. The side of a nose, chasing warmth. And then a kiss – a mere touch of chapped lips, skimming side to side to side.

Each action was unhurried, sluggish, shooting sparks down Jesse’s arm. Shivers wracked his limbs, uncertainty forcing stillness within him. Hanzo was doing this unconsciously, not in his right mind – he _must_ be. What would compel him to do such a thing in his sleep?

The man in his arms stirred once more, and Jesse could only stare as he roused from sleep, dragging his body up: black hair loosened from its hairband, back slackened, head lolled back onto Jesse’s shoulder. Even from an obscured angle he was beautiful.

“Hanzo,” Jesse whispered into the stillness of the night.

Jesse’s breath caught noticeably when Hanzo turned in his lap, butt grinding against his thighs. His face remained blocked from sight by thick strands of hair, body language frustratingly blank, progress tantalizingly slow. Hanzo was warm, so warm, so close, _so close_. Jesse thumped his head into the wall behind him, rubbing into it as if it were a plea for help. He grit his teeth to bite off any expression.

“Jesse.”

That single word broke the quiet between them, the rich flavor of Hanzo’s voice laying a soothing hand on Jesse’s erratic heartbeat like a balm. The crown of his head, tucked in the space under Jesse’s chin, now lifted up, their eyes meeting fully for the first time that night, worming their way into his soul: steady, unflinching. Bared to each other.

Jesse loved what he saw.

The kiss was initiated slowly, contact reminiscent of the night they have endured so far. Hanzo snaked his arms around as best he could, position twisted as it was. They drew even closer: one hand in hair, the other stroking a back, legs straddling a waist. Neither knew where one began and the other ended.

Hanzo curled up in Jesse’s embrace. He nosed over defined cheekbones hidden under a scruffy beard, moved down to map out his sculpted jaw, indulging in the tingling scrape it left behind. He scattered kisses across his collarbone the same way he had done upon his arm, tagging his skin with fire. The hollow in Jesse’s neck earned extra praise from his lips. In return Jesse dropped his mouth to broad shoulders, seeking to cover up the path his hands took with endless kisses, reveling in the melting tension.

The ethereal moment lasted forever – until it didn’t. Jesse, drowning in pure bliss, jerked to alertness when the doorbell rang throughout the dead hush of the apartment.

_The cookies_. Jesse thumped his head at the wall once again and lamented the utterly horrible timing. He’d completely forgotten.

“I… am not expecting anyone,” Hanzo finally spoke, seemingly out of breath. “At this time.”

Jesse scrambled up to his feet. “No, it’s… uh, actually… I’ll get it,” he said, fidgeting with his hands and unable to rip his eyes away from Hanzo, who was awkwardly lying prone on the mattress. In the light of the small apartment, everything was suddenly too bright and sharp; a multitude of emotions ran between the two, uncertainty hanging heavy in the air.

The doorbell rang again. Hanzo flinched as if it pained him. Jesse quickly made his way into the safe zone of the front door, thinking a bit more clearly now that there was a wall separating him from the living room and Hanzo.

He became lost in thought trying to understand just what happened between the two of them as he signed the delivery receipt and received the box of cookies, forgetting to leave a tip. There he stood in the carpeted hallway, replaying every scene, every touch, every kiss – and coming no closer as to what it meant. His memories grew distorted. Was it longing or revulsion he saw in Hanzo’s eyes?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t trust himself anymore.

The cardboard box creaked under his fingertips. He deliberately loosened his grip, took a deep breath, and steeled himself to face judgment.

Hanzo was now sitting up. Curled up in a loose ball, head sandwiched in the crook of his crossed arms. He looked so small in the expanse of the living room, a speck of blue amongst the mattress’ deep red sheets. Jesse’s heart clenched a little.

He didn’t stir when Jesse sat down, careful to keep his distance. “Hey. You alright?”

No response. “I can leave you alone for a little bit if you need me to–”

“No!” A hand shot out and clutched at his arm. “No, I… no.” His eyes flitted between Jesse and everywhere else. “I… I…”

Upon closer inspection, Jesse realized that he couldn’t seem to keep still: he looked jittery and bone-tired all at once, full of pent-up energy yet seconds away from collapsing. He tried to speak but words wouldn’t come out. He kept shaking his head no, locked in that motion.

Jesse turned his palm upwards – a silent gesture which Hanzo eagerly accepted, melting into his embrace. A shot of relief passed through Jesse, and he sighed into the soft tuft of hair tickling his chin. Pulling the blanket closer up and around their heads, he made sure to encompass both of them in a snug seal, muffling them from the world in more ways than one: sounds reached their ears as though they were underwater; the light that filtered through the blue blanket was heavily muted, almost completely darkening the interior.

Jesse blew out a deep sigh of satisfaction when Hanzo slowly wrapped his arms around him once again, their shared warmth beginning to permeate between each other. Lodging himself in between Jesse’s legs he ground his head into Jesse’s chest, trying to regulate his erratic breathing, timing his breaths in conjunction with the hand that rubbed up and down his back, a rhythm dropping naturally into place.

Hanzo would sometimes get a certain way, Jesse had observed – need certain environments in order to cool down. This late into the night he was sure the lights in the apartment and the glare coming from the laptop were bothering Hanzo where it would become too much: burning his eyes and overworking his senses to the point where he was forced to isolate himself in a quiet, dark area or lash out – the former of which Jesse knew he had done before numerous times. But up until now Jesse had never been privy to those bouts of isolation. And although he didn’t quite fully understand what he was going through, he strived to make him as comfortable as possible.

He wasn’t given any time to examine what that meant when a mouth nibbled on Jesse’s sensitive neck, resuming their activities from earlier with a new fervor. It took its sweet time dipping down to his exposed collarbone, lavishly feasting on heated skin, open-mouthed and ravenous. Jesse gladly let it happen, the constant caress of hot hands a thousand times better than what he had ever conjured up in his mind before, utterly spellbound with how Hanzo took his fill; he left no part untouched, leaving trails that blazed down and across his ribs and back, again and again and again. Little breathy gasps punctuated their breaths, both gulping down much-needed air.

Jesse held on to Hanzo for dear life, overwhelmed with each new feeling, drinking in every sensation. He wanted to kiss him so bad. But he didn’t dare break the spell they had created – Jesse had never seen him so relaxed before, so at home in his embrace. It would be criminal of him to turn the air so sour. He didn’t want to burden Hanzo with his own selfish desires.

Pulled from his thoughts, Jesse was taken aback when he felt a hand snake up his torso, lightly skimming down his cheek. Then, as if he had read his mind, Hanzo gently placed two fingers upon his lips. They lingered there for a profound moment – and then the hand crept down to curl around the back of his neck, urging him down, gentle but firm in its intention: an unspoken permission granted to him. _Kiss me, you fool._

Jesse’s breath caught in a clench of affection. He gave a hum of acknowledgement, stopping himself last-minute from speaking outright in respect of the non-verbal gesture. And then, only after besting the last traces of remaining insecurity did Jesse press his lips into silken hair.

He definitely needed a shower, Jesse noted, and promptly paid it no mind when he slid his fingers up the nape of his neck, the locks slightly clumped with grease. His eyes closed as he sunk kisses one by one along the line of his hair and furrowed forehead, growing dizzy with each greedy inhale. Fingers worked their way into Hanzo’s messy hair tie, pulling it off, running through to undo the tangles. He scraped blunt nails up the sides of his face, rubbed his thumbs behind his ears. He gripped his head in both hands and pulled him close, encasing him in warmth and safety, massaging out the tight tingling of freshly-loosed hair. It was intensely euphoric: how Hanzo keened, delightfully succumbing to his ministrations, unable to decide whether to lean back into the massage or return to his work on Jesse, whose neck was now covered in wild splotches of red.

Instead he did neither, and with a chuckle Jesse soon found out why; he heard more than saw the box of cookies being opened, a shuffling of cardboard valiantly fighting against a prying hand. And soon won the battle when the smell of delicious cookies wafted in the air and Hanzo’s head popped out of the blanket in triumph.

He squinted faintly as he adjusted back to the apartment lights, but all together it looked like he had recovered; a pleased smile lightened his haggard features as he chewed: chocolate chip, if the aroma was anything to go by. “Did you order red velvet as well?”

He said that so casually as if Jesse just hadn’t had all his feelings thrown into a blender and juiced into one big smoothie by the very man in front of him. “Uh, I got like a dozen, an’ I made sure to get your favorites, too. I, uh, figured you deserved the treat, especially with yer paper an’ all.”

Mention of the essay darkened Hanzo’s mood a little, but it was cut short by the thoughtfulness behind his words. “Jesse, you didn’t have to…”

“I know, I know,” he appeased, “yer gonna skin me alive if I treat you one more time. But I just… I wanted to make you feel better, ya know? Besides, you’re already eating them…”

Their noses brushed gently as Jesse spoke. Hanzo stared up at him, something tender in his eyes that left Jesse trailing off whatever he was going to say next. It felt like an eternity passed when their lips met – technically for the second time that night, but there was no need to rush. To Jesse, it felt like coming home: something so achingly familiar and wondrous and kind it jumped his heart in his throat and stayed there on an amazing high. He sighed appreciatively against his lips.

Large, dark eyes peered up at him, faint amusement dancing in their depths. “I was going to _pay_ whatever I took from you,” Hanzo murmured, no real indignation coloring his words. “Even I cannot resist warm cookies.”

The air was charged with meaning, many things left unsaid. So, they weren’t going to address this new development. That was fine, Jesse reasoned. The discussion would have to wait anyway until after Hanzo didn’t look like he was about to drop dead from finals.

Then Hanzo asked, “You know what I would pay you to do, though?”  Which was a rhetorical question, since he didn’t wait for an answer, “My essay. I would pay you handsomely to write it for me.”

A slow smile spread across Jesse’s face. “I already got all the handsome I need right here,” he winked, a profound relief stretching down his body when Hanzo allowed the compliment instead of rebuffing him. At least he knew where Hanzo’s feelings lay, too. Just to be sure.

Jesse didn’t try to stop himself from securing one more kiss. “Let me make you some tea first, to go with the cookies.”

It was worrying that Hanzo did not object to him being served tea, his usual hospitality not taking control. Jesse came back with a teacup in one hand and a glass of warm milk in the other. Putting them down on the coffee table, he dimmed the lights in an afterthought: one by one, until the apartment was thrown under the spectral glow of the college town’s lights, blurred out by gray clouds.

A surprise was waiting for him on the mattress – two surprises, actually, when he folded his legs underneath him. Smushed up against the front of Hanzo’s reclining form flat on her belly was Appa, a behemoth of a fluffy Maine Coon cat that was dangerously close to suffocating her owner. Pressed up on his back was Momo, the lanky Abyssinian loudmouth who followed her twin sister in everything she did. Twins who were actually nothing alike except that their coats were a complete, solid black, and that they were partners in crime, stuck to each other like glue.

“Careful. Cats on yer flank,” he cautioned, pulling up Hanzo by the hands. Appa followed close, stepping inside the tiny space the two men had created with their legs. Turning an unblinking gaze to Hanzo she sprung her front legs onto Hanzo’s shoulder in almost like a hug, her tail twitching languidly right below Jesse’s mouth.

He sputtered dramatically. “Gross, darlin’.”

Hanzo was a big guy width-wise but not quite so much in the height department, and it was especially noticeable as he sat cross-legged under Appa’s huge blob of fur. Physically affection was something she did mainly with her owner, but she probably just wanted to lick off the chocolate stuck to his fingers. Right now, however, she was staring something down on the other side of his back. She swiped her paw. Something meowed loudly.

Well, some _one_.

“Momo, you’re so fuckin’ dumb.” They truly were their namesakes.

Momo came skittering back around and, despite Jesse’s insult, curled up in his lap, meowing pathetically. Jesse obliged.

Cats in lap they savored their downtime, a foreign but not unwelcome contentment washing over them. It was just past midnight when Hanzo went back to work: tired, sore, and so obviously unwilling but his hands typed into the night, decades of discipline taking over his actions. He withdrew into his own head, unearthing an efficiency that lasted him into one, two, three AM. Jesse’s touch would be distracting at best in these moments, but that was okay. It was for his own good.

In the end, nothing Jesse could do to help seemed right. So he waited by his side until Hanzo would lean into him every so often, silently asking for support for brief moments as the hours passed by agonizingly slow before carrying on, the page count growing ever longer.

Finally The Longest Night of The Semester had come to an end. The deed was done. Hanzo put the finishing touches on his essay, didn’t bother proofreading it (also concerning, Jesse noted), and submitted it online at exactly 5:09 AM.

Dawn had yet to arrive, but there was a tranquility that hung over the two men in the thin darkness. It had been difficult enough for Jesse to stay awake in solidarity for his friend; he couldn’t imagine what Hanzo had been going through. He slid a hand over Hanzo’s as tenderly as he could, watching carefully for any reaction. They should’ve been warmed with use, but were still unnaturally chilled.

He rubbed them gently. Before he could say anything Hanzo stood from the mattress – a bit awkwardly, since he had been sitting for so long. “...Bathroom,” he said in lieu of an explanation, then disappeared from the room.

Jesse followed him with his eyes around the corner. Sighing, he started to put the living room back in order: pushing the coffee table to the side, cleaning up the dishes, turning off the lights. Jesse was exhausted, but somehow he knew sleep would elude him.

Still he made himself comfortable, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and closing his eyes. For the whole night he had been agonizing over Hanzo and what sort of discussion they might have the next morning. The night had been brutal but promising and, now that he had gotten a taste, it was tearing Jesse apart to wait until the time was right for the answer to his hopes. He pressed his face into a pillow, more anxious than ever before.

A presence approached him. That dip in the mattress was too big for either of the two cats, even for one as big as Appa. The massive yawn that filled the room right after could only be a sleepy Hanzo, confirming his suspicions. The weight shifted across the mattress.

Jesse opened his eyes even though he couldn’t see anything in the dark. “Feelin’ alright, Hanzo?”

He didn’t answer for a long while, and Jesse almost went back to sleep before he spoke, “I’m skipping all my classes tomorrow.”

Jesse tilted him a disbelieving look. That would be a first: even without getting caught up in the flurry of the final week of classes it was very strange for Hanzo to deliberately skip anything. It was almost scary how much of a creature of habit Hanzo was with his schedule.

He lay down next to Jesse, already wrapped up in his blanket. “After tonight I feel like I most definitely deserve it,” he yawned again, shuffling forward a little.

Tentatively, as if he was scared he would run away, Jesse slowly wrapped an arm around him, bringing him in even closer. A rush of exhilaration (too much for half-past five in the morning, if you asked him) flooded his body when Hanzo nestled himself in his chest like he belonged there.

Jesse’s breath caught in his throat. “And how…” he asked, the words almost too hard to force out, “how did you feel about tonight?”

There was a noticeable pause.

“It was…”

Hanzo paused again. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

_Dramatic bastard,_ Jesse thought fondly, just as the most sincere words were uttered in his ear:

“…simultaneously the best and worst night of my life.”

That incredible tightness in Jesse’s chest came back. He couldn’t wait any longer; he had to know, even if it was a simple answer. “Hanzo, please, we have to talk about this–”

“Tomorrow,” and then Jesse knew he lost the fight when he could hear how weary Hanzo felt. “Tomorrow, Jesse. Please.” He couldn’t bring himself to push any more.

Jesse settled in with a sigh. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.


	2. Epilogue: The Next Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the strange night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo yeah, remember when I said there would be a short little epilogue to tie this all off? Weeeeeell it turns out it's not that short and also it's been a few months, but I've been stewing on this for a while and I wanted it out there soon even if some of the ideas here are poorly executed. So uhhhhh, here you go I did this super quick and hardly edited it I really hope it ties everything up satisfyingly enough ;_;
> 
> Also did you know the first draft of this was super melodramatic and angsty even though it’s supposed to be an epilogue? YUP I completely changed the whole tone of that reeeeal quick and I’m real glad I did because this version is sooooo much better and lighter

Jesse awoke to a horrible taste in his mouth.

It was one of the first senses that he was made acutely aware of: the tang of digested acid mixing with saliva on his tongue and the bitter aftertaste of something sweet. In true McCree fashion, the agonizing torture of his surfacing consciousness was met with a string of profanities, cursing the arrival of the morning. Ugh, why did he not brush his teeth before going to bed…

He licked his lips, sniffled once, and yawned. Then recoiled when the sharp smell of sweat attacked his nostrils.

“Goddamn it,” he wanted to say, but the thickness in his throat blocked his speech and all that came out was a low gurgled noise. He cleared his throat once, then twice, then almost scared himself when the groan that came out sounded less like a tired human and more like a congested dinosaur. Fucking hell.

The rest of his body was slow to activate – his limbs were still unresponsive, but from what he could tell he was… comfortable. Extremely comfortable, in fact. A unique kind of comfort, but more comfortable than he could remember being for a while. Safe, too. Like he wouldn’t mind staying here for a few more hours, lazy and sluggish, the outside world unable to touch him with work and deadlines and essays and more work. He cursed some more.

Too curious to remain sleeping, though, Jesse pried his gunky eyes open with a grimace – and the whole illusion he had been creating in his head came crashing down.

Hanzo was lying in bed with him.

He was still very much asleep: on his back, with his arms thrown upwards off the mattress they were occupying. His mouth was open just a bit, his hair a mess of greasy inky black standing stark against the red sheets below them. All in all a very unflattering image.

Bits and pieces of last night came rushing back to Jesse. A night of many firsts for them: breakdowns and comforts and whispers and kisses. The kisses…

Jesse knew he was fucked when a surge of affection hit him hard.

Trying his hardest not to make a sound, he buried his face deeper into the mattress. Then had to keep himself from choking when the stench of sweat was even stronger.

Valiantly keeping from cursing out loud he let his eyes refocus themselves and pulled his head back – then cursed in the safety of his head when he realized his face had been nestled in Hanzo’s armpit ever since he woke up.

Jesse wrinkled his nose. Whatever, he had smelled worse.

The state of his friend, however, reminded him of last night, and how distressed Hanzo had been, feeling like the night would never end. Right now, though, he slumbered peacefully – even if he was long overdue for a shower and had his arms awkwardly circled over Jesse’s head in some sort of weird half-cuddle.

The doubts of last night, too, hit Jesse. As much as he tried to push those down they came flooding back. Now that the almost ethereal nature of that night had dissipated with the sun shining brightly down in Hanzo’s apartment, the facts were plain and simple in front of Jesse’s eyes.

Hanzo didn’t need him. Yesterday had been a fluke. It was Jesse who had pushed and pushed his way into his apartment, and refused to leave his side when Hanzo was steadily getting worse. And even though this embarrassing encounter would eventually be behind them, Jesse had seen him at his weakest – surely Hanzo would resent him for that.

Dammit, it was all Jesse’s fault.

Something cracked within Jesse, and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. Hanzo, who had been his pillar of strength since giving college a second chance, would no longer be at his side because of something he had done. He was doubtful that their friendship would come out of this unblemished, at least not without a serious discussion on what their limits were, and rightfully so; not to mention he would never get to tell Hanzo how much he cherished that friendship, and wanted it to move further – that he cared for him, respected him, admired him, _loved_ him.

Yes. He loved Hanzo. And now Jesse had gone and screwed it all up.

No. No, that couldn’t be it, Hanzo had… Hanzo had been just as enthusiastic, returning his gestures with an equal, if not vigorously reciprocated action.

Damn it, he didn’t know! He didn’t know what to think. The upcoming interrogation was going to be brutal – might as well savor these moments with Hanzo before he would awaken.

Instinctively, Jesse burrowed closer into Hanzo’s space. He felt vaguely scummy – it rubbed him the wrong way, remaining awake and willingly lying in bed just to be close with Hanzo while said friend was asleep, heedless of how Jesse was acutely aware of practically violating his personal space.

No, he felt more than a little scummy. Truth be told, Jesse was a little scared, too: scared that Hanzo might’ve changed his mind, that he had overstepped his boundaries, that he misinterpreted his signals as romantic when all he needed was some support.

_I’ll ask him when he wakes up,_ Jesse made his excuses as he curled up against Hanzo’s side, warm and snug, even though a sinking feeling made itself apparent in his stomach, a harsh whisper telling him that he was being too unreasonable – to set his standards more realistically, so that it would sting a little less when his best friend would turn him down, if that was how it was going to play out.

Just as Jesse was about to drift off to an uneasy sleep, however, the body next to him shifted.

Jesse ignored it, figuring it was Hanzo moving in his sleep. When the chest under his arm expanded in a deep breath, though, a large, jaw-cracking yawn filled his ears.

Frozen in place, Jesse felt the powerful stretch travel down his body and up into his arms, flexing all the way up to his fingers. He took an impossibly long time, luxuriating in the satisfying feeling, then bent his arm over Jesse’s head, further tucking him into the crook of his elbow. And then he itched at his armpit – the same one in which Jesse was now completely surrounded by.

“Hey–!”

Jesse couldn’t stop himself from squeaking out a protest when Hanzo’s blunt nails encountered his temple, scratching obliviously at his skin.

Of course, Hanzo chose to open his eyes right then and there.

_Goddamn handsomest fellow I’ve ever seen_ , Jesse observed in the back of his mind, noting the innocent sleepy confusion in Hanzo’s eyes as he stared down at Jesse, wondering why the itch in his armpit wasn’t going away even though he was clearly scratching at it.

Well, the peace was good while it lasted. Jesse took the plunge. He cleared his throat. “You goin’ to class or naw?”

That was not what he intended to say, but he was weak and wanted this moment to last, dammit.

“Nope.”

Hanzo was already settling in once again, saying this so casually it took a moment for it to sink in. “Don’t you got Analyzing Literatures of Southeastern Asia at– what the fuck, it’s almost noon!”

Jesse checked the time on his phone and breathed out a curse, eyes wide. They each skipped one of their morning classes: he had already missed Gender, Race, and Class in Media at eleven.

“I told you, I’m skipping my classes,” Hanzo mumbled from his side, seemingly unperturbed. “Now stop making a ruckus and go back to sleep.”

Go back to sleep? Unlikely, since Jesse’s thoughts were racing a mile a minute, desperately trying to glean any and all memories from last night, his brain still heavy with sleep. In the end he willed himself to relax; he didn’t know how fleeting his good fortune would pass – it would be best to stay quiet and gather his thoughts, calmly and rationally.

“Jesse.”

A mumbled name. Hanzo’s hand slid up his shoulder.

“Jess.”

A bit more clearer, more alert. No, Jesse wasn’t ready – this was happening sooner than expected.

“I can practically hear the wheels in your head turning madly from the other side of campus.”

The hand made its way up his neck, rested lightly on his cheek. “What’s on your mind, Jess?” Hanzo asked.

It sounded gentle and worried. With an effort Jesse let his chin be brought up, a constricting fear suddenly clogging up his throat – and then he almost gasped at the sight laid out before him: those eyes so soft and tender, cheeks marked by sleep-creases. Close enough to bask in his warmth, to feel how his body curled over him in an almost protective gesture, radiating safety from his being. God, Hanzo looked amazing.

“We should have that talk,” he said.

Silence.

“Yeah, I guess…” Jesse spoke past the knot in his throat, “I guess we should.”

“Well, then, I suppose…” Hanzo filled the room with his deep, rumbling voice, awkward and drawn-out. “I shall start first.”

He cleared his throat, and began speaking: “I have to thank you. For last night. I have to thank you for a lot of things, actually. Helping me with my essay and just… being there for me.”

Jesse could tell this is hard for Hanzo to verbalize. Nevertheless he pushed onward, “I know most people would freak out, or bail at the first sign of hardship during those… moments I have. Shit, you stayed up with me until five in the morning, supporting me despite an oversight of my doing.”

The smile that bloomed across his face reached his eyes, sincere in every way. “You helped me out in more ways than you could ever realize, Jesse. You knew exactly what I needed. So, thank you.”

It was heartfelt, Jesse knew. Heartfelt and so very difficult for Hanzo – for _anyone_ to say all this stuff to their best friend and mean it.

“Don’t worry, I will not put eight pages of an essay off until the night before anytime soon, I assure you,” Hanzo added with a breathless chuckle. “I have learned my–”

“Can we fast forward to the parts where we kissed?”

Welp, time to rip that band-aid clean off.

When Hanzo pursed his lips, hesitant and pensive, Jesse panicked. “Well, you know, ‘cause I kissed you n’ all and I value our friendship, and I wanna know what you thought. About that. And I don’t want any kind of situation that happened between us to separate us an’ I hope we can work somethin’ out like adults so we don’t end off on a bad note an’ was I dreamin’ when I kissed you or was that was real because I cannot remember.”

He said this in one long, unbroken breath, a burst of passion making him bold and brave to the point of foolhardiness. Oh, he was ripping off that band-aid, alright – and then shredding it to pieces and throwing it to the dogs because Jesse absolutely could not take it anymore. No matter Hanzo’s answer, he _had_ to know how he felt about him.

If he wasn’t scared before, Jesse was positively terrified now.

“Where…?”

A small voice that sounded just as winded as Jesse felt broke the thick silence. Hanzo was slightly slack-jawed, rooted in position, something solemn shining in the depths of his eyes – flickering from confusion, to caution, to dawning realization. To hopeful.

“Where do I…” He swallowed, a series of emotions projected plainly onto his expression. “Oh. You weren’t… You meant, it was…”

Jesse waited patiently.

“So…” Finally, Hanzo settled his gaze on Jesse, blinking slowly, carefully. “You mean to say…”

“That I wouldn’t mind doin’ it again,” he finished.

Jesse laced a hand through Hanzo’s, riding out the last of his bravery. He couldn’t tell whose fingers were faintly trembling – but when Jesse saw the smile light up Hanzo’s features, he knew he made the right decision.

Then, as if in slow motion, Hanzo inched closer. And closer, and closer, smile growing ever wider – until their breaths mingled and their noses and foreheads and mouths fit the valleys of their faces and their bodies pressed together searingly, pleasingly, incredibly, so amazing, so right, _so right_ , _so right_ grinning so cheek-busting wide and relieved they began filling the apartment with their laughter, hands and arms looped every which way, tangled in their certainty.

“Your breath smells like something died a horrible death in there.”

Despite his statement Hanzo refused to pull back, his thumb rubbing constant, rhythmic circles over the faded red spots on Jesse’s collarbone, swiping side to side with a wicked look on his face.

“And yer armpits could be used as fuckin’ smellin’ salts,” he gasped out his retort, giddiness short-circuiting his usual self-control. Being plied like this, it was all Jesse could do to contain himself from rearing up into that thumb, the delicious friction igniting some of the memories from last night.

Hanzo groaned long-sufferingly, rolled his eyes upward. “Yes, Jesse, I _know_ I need a shower.”

“Go take a damn shower then.”

“I can’t!”

Jesse grinned knowingly. “Why not?”

“Because you are tying me down to the mattress with your arms, you absolute, unfair…!”

This was not true, considering most of Hanzo’s body was on top of Jesse’s. What _was_ stopping him, though, were the kisses Jesse was trailing up his bare arm: skin smooth, faint thin hairs rising up to provide the perfect texture against his roaming lips, spending extra time on the inner bend of his elbow, topped off with a mischievous smirk thrown in as payback.

“Damn, we really fell into these roles pretty quickly, huh?”

Five more distracted insults, three bumped limbs, and twenty-five minutes of something that looked like half-assed wrestling mixed with enthusiastic kissing later, it was one o’clock and the two men were still in bed, panting heavily to catch their breaths.

It took a few seconds for Hanzo to respond, making a happy sound. “We have been good friends for years, Jess. Of course we are so well attuned to each other, you know? Like…” He waved a hand in the air aimlessly. “Like best friends.”

“Friendzoned already?” Jesse complained good-naturedly. “Damn, that was quick–”

“I want us to continue being best friends, Jess,” Hanzo barreled on, something serious in his tone that made Jesse pause. “Nothing, not even us being,” he motioned to each of them, “together, like this, should stop us from being how we were before.”

“Of course. I hear you loud and clear, bud.” Jesse nodded. “‘Sides, we’re both ace as fuck so that really shouldn’t be a problem for us anyway.”

“Wait.” Hanzo poked an accusatory finger on Jesse’s chest. “You never told me you were asexual, too.”

“What! I would’ve definitely told you!”

“I clearly remember you saying you never felt the need to constrain yourself under one identity.”

This was hard for Jesse to admit but he felt like Hanzo deserved to know: as his best friend and new boyfriend. “This is a kinda… new development I’m tryin’ out.”

Hanzo stared for a good, long minute. “You tried masturbating and hated it, didn’t you.”

“Okay, I _get_ why people like it,” Jesse launched into a rant, “but it is enjoyable for a good six, count ‘em, SIX seconds and then the rest of the time? I kinda want to detach myself from my genitalia until I get over the disgust and regret and how disgusting it feels. Huh, as if I already don’t wanna do that every day of my life!”

“I’ll spare you the details, but sex is not that much better.”

“No, go on, I wanna hear you roast this poor individual to hell and back…”

Yeah, things were going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is tame in comparison to other fics but after writing this I feel a lot more capable in writing smut somehow. Eh, I wouldn't do too badly, but also I am ace (can you guess why I made them ace??? lol).
> 
> Also I am VERY partial to the idea of romantic relationships being based on really tight friendships because IMO I think it would work out in the long run BUT THAT'S JUST MY OPINION AND I AM BUT A LONELY PICKLE WHO KNOWS NOTHING OF RELATIONSHIPS so take this with a grain of salt

**Author's Note:**

> Legend says that if you walk around my college with this fic in hand I will materialize before ur very eyes bc of the shEER AMOUNT OF PROJECTING THAT I DO ON HANZO
> 
> I am truly sorry for the horrendous typo: Chipotle is actually not Mexican at all nope no way nada


End file.
